Mischief: Managed
by The Croc Shop
Summary: For Kataang Week, Summer 2009 Edition. Aang and Katara do not blow up a mountain.


Disclaimer: I do not own nor do I claim to own any characters or concepts related to _Avatar: the Last Airbender._ This is a nonprofit work of fanfiction.

This story is set post-"The Beach," at some point before "Nightmares and Daydreams."

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**Mischief: Managed.**

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The mountain was far behind them, a distant smudge on the horizon growing ever more distant as Appa soared on, when Sokka at last turned upon them.

"Well," said Sokka. His voice chilled the air. "I hope you're proud of yourselves."

"Pride is but the first step on the path which leads to arrogance and conceit," Aang said piously. He lifted his hands palms-up in a gesture of humility.

Katara covered her own mouth and turned her face away at Aang's sly, sidelong glance. The corner of his mouth trembled. Katara swallowed a breath, but it was no use: the laugh burbled up in her throat anyway, then spilled out between her fingers. Aang made a strangled noise, a laugh aborted somewhere between his mouth and his nose, and sneezed.

Sokka's mouth thinned. Slowly, stiffly, deliberate in his fury, he straightened and crossed his arms across his chest. "So," he said. "You think this is a laughing matter. You think this is funny. Well, ha ha ha. You _blew up a mountain_."

"Not _all_ of it," Katara said. "Just key sections. Gravity did most of the work."

"It wasn't a big mountain," Aang said. He pinched his fingers together. "Just a little one. Itsy bitsy."

Katara bit the inside of her cheek. Very delicately she added, "Teeny tiny."

Sokka's face spasmed violently. He turned from them, fingers passing over his brow as he sought control. "Oh," he said, his voice muffled behind his hand. "Oh, I see. Just a little mountain. A little mountain that's on _fire_--"

Toph popped up from between the bedrolls, her hair in violent disarray, her mouth pursed. "Give it a rest, meathead. You can ground them in the morning."

"Toph," Sokka hissed, "you are _undermining my authority_."

"Ha!" said Toph. "Right. 'Authority.' You tell yourself whatever you need to, sweetheart."

Sokka made a noise like air escaping a cornered platygoose: pitched high and rumbling ominously, with the promise of a nasty bite looming near.

Aang touched Katara's arm, his fingers brushing the curve of her shoulder. The laughter humming in her chest stilled, and was silent. Aang spoke.

"Relax, Sokka," he said. "We didn't blow up the mountain. There was a Fire Nation mine in the mountain: that's what we hit."

Appa drifted sideways to take advantage of a sudden splinting of the air stream they traversed. Katara's hair whipped behind her, fluttering and flapping in heavy, dark waves. Aang was warm beside her, his shoulder sweeping against her arm as he breathed.

"Why this mine?" Sokka said. "We've passed plenty of Fire Nation mines. I thought you guys kept the vandalism to factories."

Katara pulled a face at him. She said, "The armor plating on those wall-crawlers they have is made from an ore found in that mountain. Aang overheard some of the men talking in the village, and we thought... We had to do something," she said sharply as Sokka's fingers tapped against his hip.

Aang's eyelashes lowered. He gazed vaguely downward, to where Katara's bare toes curled next to his, and said, "The spirit of the mountain wasn't very happy. What they did to the river, and the lakes: we had to shut it down."

"So you blew up the mountain," said Sokka. He crouched down beside Toph. "You guys realize you just sent up a beacon to every military outpost within a day's walk. And as far as we know, that sparky head blow up stuff man's still after us. You pretty much just gave him a letter that reads, 'Hello, how are you, hope to see you soon, hugs and kisses, the Avatar.'"

"It was worth it," Katara said.

"And," Aang said, "without this mine--"

"They have more," said Sokka. "With the amount of vehicles the Fire Nation is producing and maintaining, they have to have other mines at other mountains digging up the same ore.

"But," he said, "it's something." His voice rose sharply: "And if you ever do something like this again, young man--"

"Are you still talking?" Toph asked wonderingly. "Some of us are trying to sleep. You know, sleep? It's this new thing, where you--"

"--don't understand why you feel the need to constantly undermine me," Sokka was saying, clutching at his chest. "All I'm asking for is a little respect, Toph. I'm not asking for much."

"--respect you," Toph protested.

"You could try showing it!"

Katara leaned her head back against the saddle, watching the stars passing so far above them, distant and familiar points of light so clear and bright. Aang laid his head down beside her. She closed her eyes.

"You were pretty amazing back there," Aang said and Katara opened her eyes. He smiled at her, a funny little smile that swallowed his grey eyes and made her heart flutter oddly. "In the mine, I mean."

"You weren't so bad yourself," she whispered. Aang's pleased smile was like a spark in the night: blinding for a single illuminating moment, then gone, leaving only an echo behind. Her heart quivered.

"When you redirected the river," Aang said, "that was brilliant. And freezing it?" He sighed. Katara curled her toes in pleasure.

"Whatever you two are plotting now," Sokka said, "stop it. And I mean it. No backtalk, Toph. I'm already in a mood."

Toph snorted. "We noticed."

Katara turned so she faced Aang, and Aang curled so his knees brushed against hers. Katara tucked her hand beneath her cheek. They smiled at each other.

"We should probably go to sleep," Katara whispered.

"Good idea," Aang whispered back. The wind ruffled his hair, longer now than the week before.

"Good night," Aang said to Katara.

"Good night," Katara said to Aang.

"Good _night_," Sokka said to the world at large.

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This story was originally posted at livejournal on 08/21/2009 in response to the 08/19/2009 prompt for Kataang Week (Summer 2009 Edition), "mischief." I like to consider myself fashionably late.


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